Quentin and Daphne: Destined
by v.m.carjeb
Summary: Completely AU story about Quentin and Daphne, set in 2010. Chapter seven up!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: New Flower

The lights flashed repeatedly in Daphne's face as Desmond led her into the bustling nightclub. She really didn't know why she agreed to go out with him; true, he was nice, and a cousin of the infamous Quentin Collins, but she really didn't know anything about him. The only reason she didn't decline was that he mentioned casually that Quentin frequents the club twice a week.

"Here we are," Desmond said happily, breaking Daphne's concentration. She looked up expectantly, and he waved his hand over a small table for two. Pulling out a chair, he added, "Best seat in the house."

Daphne smiled wanly, and after a moment asked, "Why?"

He nodded toward a small hallway, and said, "Next to the bathroom."

Daphne laughed uncertainly and fidgeted with the small scented candle in the middle of the table. A fast instrumental rock song came over the speakers, and Desmond started tapping his fingers on the table. He smiled at her and asked, "Care to dance?"

Daphne averted her eyes and tried to smile kindly. "Sure," she said, not really meaning it.

Desmond came behind her and pulled out her chair as she stood up. He took her hand and they walked into the center of the dance floor. All around her, Daphne could see couples dancing so close together there wasn't even any room for air to seep through. She nervously wondered if this was what Desmond expected of her when he asked her to dance, but he merely started moving to the beat and silently motioned for her to do the same.

The dance was moving along blandly until a tall, dark-haired gentleman came along and smiled at Desmond, saying, "Mind if I cut in?"

Desmond laughed and clapped the man on the shoulder and said, "Sure, man."

Daphne watched in amazement as her "date" walked away, leaving her with a man who could be anyone from a murderer to a rapist, and who could easily overpower her. The man smirked at her incredulous expression as a slower, more seductive beat sounded over the crowd. The man reached over and pulled her close to him, and started moving along to the song. Daphne did her best to try and separate herself from her overzealous dance partner, but he kept pulling her still closer until she could smell the sweet cologne he was wearing. "So," he said in a smooth voice, "What's your name?"

"Daphne," she said heatedly.

"Daphne," he repeated smilingly, "Daphne is her name." After a long pause, he said, "My name's Quentin."

"Really?" Daphne said, trying to conceal her excitement. Smiling seductively, she moved even closer to him until her face touched his chest. "Desmond told me so much about you."

"All good, I hope," he joked as they danced seemingly in slow motion.

Daphne realized as the song was ending that this might be her last chance to talk with Quentin Collins alone. Smiling sweetly, she said, "Can you join – I mean, do you _want_ to join our table?"

"Can't," Quentin said nonchalantly, but as Daphne looked up at him, she saw regret in his eye.

"Oh," she said, a bit put out. The song ended and the two separated.

Bowing, Quentin said, "Thank you for the pleasure of this dance, dear Daphne."

"Oh, you're welcome, Quentin," Daphne smiled. She suddenly turned serious and asked, "Will I ever see you again?"

"Oh, if you're around Desmond, you will," Quentin said in a laughing tone, "Anyone can tell you we're the best of friends."

"Yes, so I've heard," Daphne said, hanging her head, "Well, it was nice to meet you anyway."

"Yes," Quentin affirmed as he walked away, "Invite me to the wedding!"

Daphne laughed, trying to conceal the fact that she really didn't want him to walk away from her now. She wanted to cry out, to tell him to stop, but she stood in the middle of the dance floor, helpless, as Quentin exited the club altogether. Unable to stand there anymore, Daphne returned to her table with Desmond.

"So, now you've met Quentin," Desmond said as Daphne sat down at the table, "What did you think of him?"

"He's very nice," Daphne said in a somber tone.

Desmond laughed rollickingly and said, "You spent that much time with him, and that's all you can say?" Desmond calmed his laughter and added, "After you spend more time with him, you'll like him more."

"Oh, I didn't mean it in that way – I like him now," Daphne insisted, "It's just – I don't know what else to say."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Desmond said reassuringly, "Quentin isn't exactly the friendliest person in the world. You'll get used to him." His hand covered hers, and Daphne feared the worst; however, all he said was, "Come on; I'll take you home."

Desmond was sitting in the living room of his mother's house when Quentin entered. He grinned and said, "How's the book?"

Desmond looked up from _Jane Eyre_ and said, "No matter how many times I read it, I still think Rochester got a bad deal."

"Yeah," Quentin said, wandering around the room, "I can assume that your date with Daphne didn't go as planned, then?"

"No, it went fine," Desmond said with a stiff smile, "I drove her home and perhaps nothing happened, but she did say I could see her again if I wanted." Desmond stood and placed the book on the table saying, "Why'd you come over, anyway? Trouble with Samantha?"

"As a matter of fact . . ." Quentin began, but stopped himself and instead said, "No, you don't want to hear about it."

"Sure I do, man," Desmond said sincerely, "Anything that concerns you concerns me. Tell me."

"It's nothing, really," Quentin said, "I asked Samantha for a divorce for the umpteenth time, and she turned me down – again."

"Sorry," Desmond said, placing a comforting hand on Quentin's shoulder, "I never should've been your best man."

"Hey, it wasn't your fault," Quentin laughed, "Besides, it was my mistake and I made it. Boy, did I make it."

"I don't understand what kind of power she has over you," Desmond said, "Why not divorce her without her permission?"

"I want my son," Quentin said, enunciating each word as if it were law.

"I see," Desmond said, finally understanding, "If she doesn't get her way, she'll make it messy. You picked a good one, Quentin."

"Don't remind me," Quentin joked," Anyway, I just came over to drown my sorrows. Aunt Flora has brandy, right?"

"Yeah," Desmond said," Come on, you'll get the Desmond Collins Special. It'll make you forget anything you want – and maybe even more."

"I believe that," Quentin said as they both retired to the bar on the other side of the house.

Quentin entered the club again that night. He always felt that this club held something for him, and someday he'd know what. He looked around the crowd – all couples. For some reason, the Blue Whale never attracted any single women. He could go into a singles bar, but he figured his wedding ring would prevent him from being accepted.

He ambled up to the bar and saw a slender barmaid serving drinks. Her dark brown hair was tied back into a long ponytail, and even from far away Quentin felt there was something familiar about her face. As she walked toward him, one name ran quickly through his mind: Daphne. She smiled at him and asked, "What'll it be, Quentin?"

Quentin shook his head disbelievingly and said, "Since when have you worked here?"

"Since today," she replied, "Now, what do you want?"

"Beer," he said as she handed him an ice-cold one. "What made you decide to work here?"

"Last night, I saw that they needed help, so this morning I applied," Daphne explained, "Now if you'll excuse me, Quentin-."

"No, wait!" Quentin said, grabbing her arm, "I need the company."

"Well, I need to keep this job," Daphne said.

"Do you mind if I stay?" Quentin asked.

"No," Daphne said as she moved on to another customer.

Quentin smiled and nursed his beer, just happy to sit next to this new flower he has found.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two – I'm Counting On You

Quentin sat at Daphne's bar until her replacement came. Daphne took off her apron and stared at the man in mild surprise. She really hadn't talked to him throughout her shift; he merely sat there, drinking beer after beer and staring at her strangely. After giving the apron to her replacement, she walked over to Quentin and said, "I suppose you'll be here all night."

"Will you be?" Quentin asked, his blue eyes bearing into her brown ones.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Collins, but I have to get home," Daphne said curtly. She didn't know Quentin's intentions, but the last thing she needed was a hurt and vengeful Desmond.

Quentin stood swiftly and said, "Then would you mind if I walked you home?" Daphne's curious stare was her only response. "It's late, and possibly not safe."

"Probably?" Daphne said incredulously. "The mere fact that three people have been murdered in the village makes it _certain_ that it's not safe out."

Quentin hung his head then tried again. "I'm sorry, I really wasn't thinking."

"After all the beers you've had, it doesn't surprise me," Daphne smirked.

Quentin smiled slightly and took hold of Daphne's arm. "C'mon, I'll walk you home."

Daphne considered this proposition for a moment, then shrugged and followed his lead. While Daphne walked home with her companion, Quentin talked mostly about himself. He revealed that he loved sailing – in fact, it was his hobby. He also rambled on and on about his best friend, Gerard Stiles. Daphne gathered from his drunken babbling that Gerard saved him from a terrible storm at sea.

After ten minutes, they reached her door. Daphne smiled pleasantly at Quentin and said, "Good night, Mr. Collins. Thank you for walking me home."

"Ah-ah-ah," Quentin sing-songed, wagging his finger in Daphne's direction, "Where's my good-night kiss?"

Daphne shook her head in mild protest and said, "I don't think Desmond would like that."

"And I don't think you like Desmond," Quentin said bluntly. Daphne stood on her stoop speechless as she stared at Quentin. "Now, now, don't be shocked," Quentin smiled, his arms enclosing her, "I just happen to know that Desmond's not your type."

"Then who is?" Daphne asked angrily, trying to break free from Quentin's embrace.

"Me," Quentin grinned, pulling Daphne closer to him.

"Mr. Collins, that's absurd!" Daphne fumed. Quentin still grinned, however, for he noticed that Daphne had ceased her struggling. Without hesitation, he bent down and kissed her soft lips. After he broke away, a look of fury crossed her young face. "How dare you?" she screamed, and with one final burst of energy, she released herself from his arms.

"You let me," Quentin said innocently.

"What?" Daphne shook her head, a disbelieving expression on her face. Quentin merely smiled knowingly, and that look infuriated her more than ever. "Good-night, Mr. Collins."

Daphne turned to go inside, but Quentin pulled her back and pinned her against the closed door. With a drunken smile, Quentin said, "Not until you say you love me."

"What?" Daphne exclaimed. "Mr. Collins, let me go!"

"Say you love me," Quentin persisted.

"I don't!" Daphne insisted.

A smile crept across his face as he backed away saying, "You do; you just don't know it yet."

Daphne stared at him incredulously. "I'll never understand you, Mr. Collins." Without another word, she hurriedly entered her house. Quentin stared at the closed door for a few minutes before toddling back home.

Desmond parked the car close to the growing crowd at the annual Collinsport fair. He and Daphne exited the car and walked over to buy the tickets. Daphne was going to show Quentin that he just can't take any girl he wants; that she and Desmond had a _respectful _relationship, if not a particularly loving one. As soon as the tickets were dispersed, Desmond took her arm and led her into the fenced-in fair.

They walked over in the direction of the Ferris wheel, and Desmond said, "You wanna take a ride?"

Daphne looked in another direction, and recalled a memory of eight years ago when she was only fifteen. Her first date was at a fair with a very uncouth boy that was all hands; he made his first move on the Ferris wheel. She smiled nervously and said, "Actually, I'm kind of hungry."

Desmond shrugged and said, "Okay. Let's go over there." He pointed over toward a row of booths lined up against one part of the chain-link fence. He again took her arm as they walked down to the seemingly endless number of booths. As they got half-way to the end, Daphne saw Quentin in the distance with a mystery woman with curly red hair. "Quentin!" Desmond called out.

Quentin looked up and smiled, waving hello as he and the woman approached them. "Hello," he said to his cousin before fixing his stare on Daphne. "Imagine seeing you here."

Daphne blushed and looked down at her shoes. Just then, she heard the mystery woman clear her throat and say, "Quentin . . ."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Quentin said hesitantly, "Samantha, this is Daphne Harridge. She and Desmond have been dating for a while." Daphne looked up and scrutinized Samantha's arrogant face. She wasn't exactly beautiful, and she had a demanding quality about her. Quentin sighed deeply and continued. "Daphne, this is my wife, Samantha."

Daphne knew she didn't conceal her initial shock. She tried to cover it up as best she could before attempting a smile and saying, "How nice to meet you."

Samantha bowed her head smugly. Quentin forced a smile and said, "Samantha, dear, it's getting chilly. Can you get my sweater out of the car?"

Samantha narrowed her gaze at Daphne, then, with a smirk stamped across her face, said, "Sure, darling."

As Samantha's fiery curls bounced away, Daphne turned to Desmond and said, "I'm still hungry; let's go."

"Nonsense!" Desmond exclaimed. "I'll get you a drink. You can talk to Quentin." Desmond winked at Quentin as he walked to the closest beverage booth.

Quentin cleared his throat and moved a step closer to Daphne. "Why are you afraid to be alone with me?" he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching into a suppressed smile.

"I'm not afraid," Daphne said haughtily, "I'm ashamed."

"Of?" Quentin laughed.

"The way you behaved last night," Daphne explained.

"I'm not," he said.

"Well, someone should be," she said, turning her back on him.

Quentin walked in front of her and said, "Do you care to make a little bet?"

"On?" Daphne said coldly.

"If I can hit five balloons with five darts, you'll dance the next slow dance with me."

Daphne scoffed and said, "Wouldn't your wife mind?"

Quentin smiled mischievously, saying, "Is that a yes?"

"No one can possibly win at these carnival games," Daphne pointed out, "So if you hit five in a row – which you won't – I suppose I can dance with you."

Smirking, Quentin walked up to the booth and laid down five dollars. The carnival worker gave him five darts and, one after the other, Quentin popped all five balloons. He glanced over at Daphne, who was looking quite incredulously at the board – not because Quentin popped all five balloons, but because the pattern looked suspiciously like a heart. Quentin held out his hand and said, "Dance, m'lady?"

Just then, the carnie spoke up, saying, "Wait, sir! Your prize!"

Samantha came around at this opportune moment and exclaimed, "Quentin! Did you win this for me?" She immediately snatched the stuffed animal and clutched it to her chest. "I love you, Quentin."

Samantha leaned on her husband, but he quickly stepped toward Daphne and said, "I believe I promised you a dance."

Quentin held out his hand for the second time as _When You Say Nothing At All_ started playing for the people on the dance floor. Quentin enclosed one of Daphne's slender hands in his as his other arm encircled her waist. The two started swaying in time as Daphne asked, "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"No," Quentin smiled.

"Do you love you wife?" Daphne asked bluntly.

Quentin stared down at her for a second, deep in thought, before answering. "Does this answer your question?" he said as he bent down and kissed her.

Daphne awoke in her room the next morning. She groggily turned off the alarm and pulled back the covers. She held her head as she remembered last night's events; at least Desmond didn't see. Samantha's glares as she and her husband walked away still burned in Daphne's memory. It's done though, she told herself as she got out of bed and forced herself to shower.

As she was sitting down to breakfast, she heard a knock on her door. Daphne got up and answered it, only to find Quentin Collins on her doorstep. "May I come in?" he asked. Daphne stepped aside, allowing him to enter her house. "Listen, I want to apologize for – no," he said abruptly, "I'm not sorry I kissed you. I'm just sorry I had to make such a scene of it."

Daphne shrugged and headed toward the kitchen. "It really doesn't matter, Mr. Collins; I'll survive."

Quentin smiled at her as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. "I'm sure you will." He started walking toward her slowly. "My apology wasn't the only reason I came here, you know."

Daphne stared at him and slammed down her carton of juice. "Mr. Collins, you are married," she said sternly, "I hardly think you should be here if you can't control yourself. Go home." Quentin stood paralyzed only five feet from her. Daphne sighed and added, "Do you have any children?"

Quentin nodded. "One son, and he's sixteen now." Quentin paused for a moment before adding, "I married young." He continued walking over to Daphne until he was so close that he held her face in his hands. "Daphne, I don't love Samantha."

"Then why did you marry her?" Daphne asked.

"Because she was pregnant," Quentin admitted, "I've been trying to get a divorce for years, but Samantha wants to keep Tad. Meanwhile, I have only the sympathy of my friends." Quentin's face broke into a grin. "I'd rather have the sympathy of a pretty lady."

Daphne sighed and removed his hands from her face. "I have to intention of being anybody's mistress."

"I know," Quentin sighed, "But I need someone that I can worship and adore – someone like you." Daphne looked into Quentin's clear blue eyes and melted in the face of his sadness. She stared at the floor and eventually nodded. Quentin's face brightened immediately. "You'll do it?"

Daphne looked up at him and said, "Yes, Quentin, I'll do it."

Quentin smiled jubilantly as he brought her into a kiss. After their lips parted, Quentin said, "I'm counting on you."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three – Cavorting with a Married Man

Quentin entered the local café the next day. Since he broke through Daphne's shell, he's been walking on air. Even Samantha's surliness and resentment could not faze him. He walked up to the counter and ordered a breakfast burrito and a coffee. When he looked for a table, a soft, young voice caught his attention. "I know I shouldn't have, Leticia, but what else could I do?"

He looked around, and saw Daphne sitting at a table with two other women, one of whom must have been Leticia. Just then, a woman with long, blond hair pulled to the side answered her in an English accent. "You could've told 'im to 'it the road, that's what!"

The other woman, also blond yet bearing a slight resemblance to Daphne, put her hand over Daphne's and said soothingly, "Daphne, darling, you're so young and naïve. Quentin is frustrated with his marriage and sees you as his way out."

"What do you mean, Catherine?" Daphne asked. From afar, Quentin could see anger smoldering in her dark eyes.

"Just that he wants a divorce from his wife. Correct?" she said frankly. Daphne nodded and she continued, "Well, if his wife knew that he was having an affair, she just might grant him that divorce."

Quentin didn't know whether to laugh or scold Daphne for telling anyone about their secret. But then again, he thought, he never swore her to secrecy, and she would have to tell someone; no one could keep that secret inside for too long. He grinned and grabbed an empty table next to them so he could continue listening.

"Catherine, I know you're my sister, but with all due respect, you don't know Quentin," Daphne said defensively, "I've met his wife, and I can tell he doesn't love her. I know he wants a divorce; I'm not denying that, but he seems to mean what he says to me."

"Wha' abou' Desmond, luv?" Leticia asked.

"Desmond is a good guy, but I don't think that we could ever be more than friends," Daphne said.

"Daphne," Catherine sighed, "You're giving up an awful lot for this guy – this _married_ guy."

"I don't think so," Daphne negated.

"Oh?" Catherine said, arching an eyebrow. "What about your innocence? Your good standing with everyone who knows you? Now you'll be known as the woman having an affair with a married man. And how is Desmond going to take it?"

Daphne looked down at her coffee. "I don't know."

"Well, I suggest that you think about it, Daphne," Catherine said pressingly, "You'd better get used to people not being so happy for you when they find out about your little trysts."

"No!" Daphne said, looking into her sister's eyes pleadingly. "Please don't tell anyone, Catherine. I only told you and Leticia because you're my best friends. I trust you more than anyone. Please don't tell."

Leticia turned to Catherine and said, "She's right, you know. We can't tell."

Catherine turned away from them both and stared out the window for a moment. "We should you know," she said finally.

"If a girl can't trust her sister, who can she trust?" Daphne asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

Quentin sighed at his table, and decided to make his grand entrance. He walked over to them and said, "Hi, girls."

"Hello, Quentin," Daphne said, fighting back tears. Leticia looked the other way, while Catherine was more direct: she glared at him.

He shifted his weight and said, "Girls, would you mind leaving Daphne and I alone?"

"No," Leticia said, rising from her seat.

"Yes we would mind!" Catherine said incredulously, grabbing Leticia's arm and forcing her to sit again.

Quentin sighed and said softly, "Listen, I know what you must think of me. I – I'm only dating Daphne because I love her, not to get back at my wife, or whatever else you cooked up in your minds. I really love Daphne. I think she's a special person, and I wouldn't do anything to harm her." He looked into Catherine's skeptical eyes and said, "I mean it."

Leticia rose from the table and said, "Come on, Catherine."

Catherine reluctantly followed Leticia out to the street, leaving Quentin and Daphne alone. Quentin took Leticia's seat and stared directly at Daphne. "You didn't believe what they were saying, did you."

Daphne shook her head. "Leticia didn't really say anything; she knows that I should lead my own life. But my sister Catherine . . . she's older than me, and thinks that I can't."

"Now, now," Quentin said, patting Daphne's hand, "She's just worried about you. Try to be patient with her, okay?" Daphne smiled and nodded. Quentin glanced at the clock and said, "Listen, I've got to go to work now, but, uh . . . see you later, okay?"

Quentin flashed his biggest smile as Daphne laughed and said, "Okay."

Later that evening, Quentin and Daphne lay in her bed. Daphne stared up at the ceiling, thinking. This night was perfect – more so then she had imagined. She turned to look at him, and he smiled at her. He put his arm around her shoulders and said, "What are you so deep in thought about?"

Daphne shook her head and resumed staring up at the ceiling. "How wrong Catherine and Leticia were."

Quentin snuggled closer to her and said, "I've loved so few things in my life; I love you."

Daphne turned to Quentin once again and kissed him. As their lips parted, she said, "I've never met a man who deserved love more than you."

Quentin sighed and said, "You're young, Daphne, and innocent. You don't know about the mistakes one can make in a lifetime. Samantha was one of them."

"Is she so horrible?" Daphne asked, her eyes full of pity.

"Our marriage has been one loveless nightmare," Quentin explained, "When I first met you, I didn't even recognize the love right in front of my eyes." He took her face in his hands, and came closer to her. "Ever since that night, though, you have constantly been in my thoughts. I never thought I could love anyone the way I love you."

He kissed her again, their minds lost in loving passion. His hands traveled down to her waist, bringing her closer to him as they made love once again.

The next morning, Daphne slipped into a pair of skinny jeans and a baggy orange sweater, and drove to Rose Cottage. She knocked on the door, and Desmond answered, beaming. "Come in, come in, my dear," he said, waving her through the door. She nervously entered the living room; she had rehearsed countless times in her head what she was going to say to this man that considered her to be his girlfriend, but she didn't know if she could get the words out. She didn't know if she could break his heart. "Please, sit down, Daphne," Desmond said, pointing at a chair.

Daphne smiled shakily as she sat down. She took a deep breath and said, "Desmond, there is something I have to tell you, so please don't interrupt me, because it's very difficult for me."

Desmond creased his brow as he said, "Of course."

"Desmond, I know how you feel about me," Daphne said, "But frankly, I don't feel the same way about you. I like you, Desmond – as a friend. I don't think this relationship can work."

Desmond narrowed his eyes at her, his head nodding in anger. "So that's it? You don't feel the same way? After two weeks of dating-."

"I just couldn't allow it to go on any further," Daphne explained.

"I see!" he said explosively, pacing around the room. "Friendship is all you have to offer, huh?" He stops pacing and scrutinizes Daphne carefully. "You've found someone else, haven't you?"

Daphne averted her eyes from his. She considered lying to him, but that would only make things worse in the long run. "Yes," she said finally.

"Who?" he asked in a venomously quiet voice.

"I'd rather not say," she said, her eyes fixated on the floor.

"Daphne," he said, his voice finally softening, "Please. Look at me." Daphne hesitated for a moment before looking up at the man she betrayed. "I deserve to know."

Daphne nodded. "Yes, you do," she agreed, "But I don't think you'll take it well."

"Is it someone I know?" Desmond asked, hurt apparent in his eyes.

"Yes," Daphne admitted.

"Please, Daphne," he pleaded, "I have to know."

Daphne took another deep breath and said, "Quentin."

"You'd rather cavort with a married man than date me," Desmond said, laughing harshly, "I've never heard that excuse before."

"I'm sorry," Daphne said sincerely, "I loved him." She stared at him as he just stood there and said nothing. "I'm trying to be as honest as I can-."

"I think you'd better leave," Desmond said, turning away from her.

"All right," she said, walking out of the house. After the door shut behind her, Desmond broke down into tears.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four – Support

Leticia and Catherine stood outside Desmond's house that afternoon. Leticia nervously ringed her hands.

"I don' know if I can do it, luv," she said nervously, "It'll break 'is 'eart."

"If Daphne cannot settle her own affairs, we shall do it for her," Catherine said determinedly.

Brushing past Leticia, Catherine knocked on the door. "Coming," they heard from inside. The door soon opened, and Desmond stood, and became transfixed as he stared at Leticia. Her blond hair was pulled to one side, as always, and her violet eyes looked at him with immense concern and pity. Her lithe figure was draped in a silk-chiffon leopard print shirt, and wool mini pants. Her tiny feet were protected by suede booties. She was obviously eccentrically dressed, without any mainstream fashion sense, but she was the most interesting creature Desmond had ever seen. As he stood gaping at her, he decided that he had to speak, but the words could not come out. "H-hello," he faltered.

"Desmond, I'm Catherine, Daphne's sister," Catherine said, taking control, "We have something to speak to you about."

Desmond looked at Catherine, then back at Leticia. He smiled nervously, and opened the door wider, saying, "Come in, please." The two women filed past him into the living room and seated themselves on the sofa. Desmond soon followed, and said, "I really don't know what else there is to discuss."

"What do you mean?" Catherine said, confused.

"Just that Daphne came over here earlier today and told me everything," he said frankly.

Leticia and Catherine looked at each other. "Everything?" Leticia asked.

"Yes," Desmond affirmed.

"Oh!" Leticia cried, relieved, "Oh, luv, I'm so grateful! I really didn' want to 'ave to tell ya!" Leticia then turned to Catherine and said, "See, luv? Daphne can take care of 'erself."

"Yes," Catherine said, looking at the floor. She stood and said, "I'm sorry, Desmond, for re-opening something that I'm sure you would have liked to forget. Please accept my sincere apology."

"Done," Desmond smiled as Catherine headed out the door. Leticia started to follow, but Desmond gently grabbed her arm. "And you, my dear."

"Wha' abou' me?" Leticia asked, looking up at Desmond.

"How about dinner some night?" he asked smilingly.

"Dinner?" she smiled. "When?"

"Whenever you're free," he replied, "How about tonight?"

"Oh," Leticia said, looking down, "Tonigh' I work. Wha' abou' tomorrow nigh'?"

"Okay," Desmond smiled, letting her go. As Leticia walked out of the house, he wondered how he could have been so upset about Daphne. He now knew what true love was supposed to feel like.

Later that day, Quentin was standing in front of his bedroom mirror, tying his ivory-colored tie. He was going to see Daphne again, and he hummed a tune as he combed his hair. Samantha was out with her sister, so she wouldn't be back for a while. He tucked in his shirt, and looked at himself in the mirror. "Not bad," he said to himself, then wondered what Daphne would be wearing. A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in," he said as he picked up the comb again.

Desmond entered his room, and smiled to himself as he saw his cousin in full date fare. "Looking good," he commented.

Quentin laughed and said, "What brings you here, man?"

Desmond clapped his cousin on the shoulder and said, "Just here to say I don't hold it against you."

"Don't hold what against me?" Quentin asked, already knowing the answer.

"You don't have to play dumb with me, man," Desmond said sincerely, "Daphne came by this morning and told me everything. You have my blessing."

Quentin stopped combing his hair and turned around, facing his cousin. "I thought you liked her," he said disbelievingly.

"Well, I did," Desmond hedged. Finally, he laughed and said, "I'll tell you the truth: today, I met an angel."

Quentin resumed getting ready. "Do I know her?"

"You're not going to steal this one, too, are you?" Desmond said half-jokingly.

Quentin suddenly turned serious and looked at Desmond. "I am really sorry, man. I didn't mean to steal Daphne; it just happened."

"I believe you," Desmond smiled, "You're not just my cousin; you're my best friend. I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt me." Quentin smiled back and put down the comb. "Her name's Leticia," he added.

Quentin raised his eyebrows. "Daphne's friend?"

"You know her?" Desmond counter-asked.

"Met her yesterday," he said, "She seemed nice." Quentin leaned down to Desmond's height and asked, "You're not doing this just to get back at Daphne, are you?"

"No!" Desmond exclaimed. "Have you seen her? She's beautiful!"

"Well, all right!" Quentin said, genuinely happy for his cousin. "Do you have a date with her yet?"

Desmond nodded. "Tomorrow night we're having dinner at The Inn."

"You do move fast, don't you?" Quentin said jokingly. He turned to his cousin, and mock-posed. "Am I ready?"

"Oh, yeah," Desmond said, trying not to laugh.

"Come on," Quentin said, draping his arm around his cousin's shoulders, "I have a girl to see." They exit the room, talking and laughing, best friends as always and for forever.

Daphne looked out her window, amazed at how dark it had gotten. She smoothed out her nutcracker skirt and looked in the mirror. She should really stop hanging out with Leticia, she mused, as she looked at the disaster that she called her outfit. She had on a rocker T-shirt, paired with a red ballerina skirt and blue sandals. She shook her head and couldn't help laughing. She glanced at the clock and realized Quentin would be here shortly. She hurriedly pulled her hair to the side. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she had to laugh again: more inspiration from Leticia. She rummaged in her make-up case, but soon stopped. Last night, Quentin had said how beautiful she looked without any extra help. Well, he asked for it, she thought.

Her ears caught the sound of Quentin's car driving up her street. She rushed to her window, and saw him get out of his 2010 Chrysler 300. She immediately felt her heart do flips as he knocked on her door. Once again smoothing her skirt nervously, she raced to the front door and opened it. Her face broke into a smile as she saw her date, tall and handsome, look at her with such love in his dazzling blue eyes. He came in and immediately kissed her. "I missed you," he said as their lips parted.

"Me, too," she added, holding him close. "It seemed more like a week than a day."

Quentin smiled and looked at her closely before laughing. "Was Leticia here today?" he asked.

Daphne blushed and said, "I know. Would you rather I changed?"

"No," he said, still laughing, "I like it."

Daphne laughed, too, and they shared a moment of silence, standing in the middle of the living room, just holding each other, loving each other.

Quentin's cell phone jarred them out of their reverie. As he pulled it out of his pocket, Daphne recognized the song: _Carried Away _by George Strait. "It's Samantha," he sighed, answering it. "What? . . . I can't now . . . I'm at a business meeting (Daphne scowled at him) . . . I don't know, a few hours maybe . . . (he sighed) Yes, I know I have a son that needs me . . . Yes, I know . . . I really can't – listen – lis – hey, just listen, okay? I really can't talk right now. I'll see you when I come home, all right? . . . Yeah . . . Mmm-hmm . . . Right . . . 'Bye." He closed his cell phone and put it back in his pocket, smiling at Daphne. "She never knows when to leave me alone."

"Should I read off last night's minutes?" Daphne said sarcastically.

"What? Oh," Quentin said, smiling sheepishly, "Well, she'll know eventually."

"I told Desmond," Daphne pointed out.

"I know," Quentin said, "He told me. He's found someone new, you know."

"Good," Daphne enthused, "Who?"

"Leticia," Quentin smiled.

Daphne raised her eyebrows. "You know, they just might be perfect for each other." The couple smiled at each other before Daphne asked, "What's my ring tone?"

"_Let's Go_," Quentin gulped.

"By The Ramones?" Daphne said, scrutinizing Quentin with her eyes. "How come I get a war song and Samantha gets a love song?"

"Samantha picked out her song," Quentin hedged, "And if another person had a love song, she might suspect something."

"Well, how is she going to know 'eventually' if you're so damn good at hiding our relationship?" Daphne asked, her anger rising.

"I'll tell her," Quentin answered.

"When?" Daphne pressed.

"Soon," he hedged. He sat down on Daphne's sofa. "Why don't you put on some music?"

Daphne sighed and smiled, knowing better than to argue with him: he always wins. She walked over to the stereo system and put on a Robert Gordon album, and the sound of good rockabilly music filled the air. She then sat down beside Quentin, getting close. "You like?" she asked.

Quentin nodded. "How did you know?"

Daphne shrugged. "I didn't; I put it on because it's my favorite."

Quentin smiled. "Mine, too."

He placed an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned on him. "What do you do at your job?"

He sighed. "I run the fishing fleet for my father."

Daphne raised her eyebrows, impressed. "Sounds important."

"Yeah, but it's not my style," he said.

"What would you like to do?" she inquired.

"Invent," he replied, a smile creeping over his face.

"Really?" Daphne asked, enthusiastic. "Invent what?"

"I'd like to be the first man to travel through time," he explained excitedly, "Right now, I'm building a staircase that would allow anyone to travel to another century."

"Wow," she said, blown away, "What does Samantha think of this?"

Quentin sighed and leaned back on the couch. "She's unsupportive, as usual."

Daphne shook her head. "Quentin, what are you doing with a woman like that? She should support her husband. I would."

"Would you?" he asked, a mischievous smile on his face. Daphne nodded. He pulled her closer. "Would you support this?" he said, kissing her.

"Yes," she giggled as their mouths parted.

"How about this?" he said as he picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five – Deals and Divorces

The next morning, Daphne walked into the diner bright and early. Her long dark hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and she looked the image of casual in her white rocker T-shirt and washed-out denim shorts. She picked an empty table and sat down, beginning to day-dream about last night's adventures with Quentin.

As she was day-dreaming, a young, pleasant-looking man came and sat down opposite her with his meal. "Have you ordered yet?" the mystery man smiled.

Daphne creased her brow and said, "Who are you?"

The man bowed his head. "Gerard Stiles, at your service."

Daphne thought for a moment before her expression brightened. "You're a friend of Quentin's, aren't you?"

Gerard laughed. "Well, you seem to have the advantage of knowing me. Are you a friend of Quentin's also?"

Daphne blushed and replied, "Yes, I am."

Gerard picked up her hand and said, "Ah, I can tell that you are quite fond of him. Unfortunately, I am afraid pursuit is useless."

Daphne laughingly said, "I'll keep that in mind."

Daphne tried pulling her hand away, but Gerard's grip was firm. His hazel eyes burned into her brown ones as he said in a sensual tone, "I can tell you your future if you want. They say I am a mystic, and they are quite right. I have – certain powers. I could show them to you."

Daphne looked away. "No, that's quite all right, Mr. Stiles."

Gerard's grip strengthened. "Gerard, please. You still haven't told me your name."

Daphne's eyes flashed in his direction. "And I don't think I will." With a burst of determination, she pulled her hand away. She rubbed her aching hand as she said, "I can't believe you are Quentin's friend."

"I assure you I am," Gerard insisted.

Daphne shook her head. "I don't believe you. I don't believe you're the man you say you are. Good day." She stood to leave, but Gerard grabbed her arm. "Let go!" Daphne said loudly.

"Please don't leave," Gerard said, his eyes imploring, "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry. Please – sit back down."

"No!" Daphne exclaimed, jerking her arm out of his grasp. Without another word, she stormed out of the diner, leaving Gerard alone to think.

Desmond sat in the living room that afternoon, contemplating his date attire, when the phone knocked him out of his reverie. He crossed over to the phone and answered, "Hello?"

"Desmond, luv," he heard over the receiver, "I can' make it tonigh'."

"Why not?" Desmond asked concernedly, "Is anything the matter"

"No, no, nothin' like tha', "she explained, "My manager called an' told me tha' I 'ad to work tonigh'." Her voice brightened as she added, "You can come an' watch my show tonigh'!"

"Oh," Desmond said, creasing his brow, "I suppose. Where do you work?"

"The Eagle," she replied, "'Ave you been?"

"Oh, once in a while," Desmond smiled, "I'll be there – I'll bring Quentin and Daphne, too."

"Oh, wonderful!" she exclaimed. "See you in a bit, luv!"

"Yes, see you then," Desmond beamed as he hung up the phone. Minutes later, he would call up his cousin to join him, and of course Quentin's answer was yes.

That night, Desmond, Quentin, and Daphne gathered at The Eagle to watch Leticia's show. Daphne was hanging on Quentin's arm, dressed in a ruffle dress and turquoise sandals. They found three seats together and Desmond asked Daphne, "Have you ever watched Leticia's act?"

"No," Daphne replied, "But I'm sure it's wonderful. She has a marvelous voice."

Just then, the house lights dimmed, and a spotlight shone in the middle of the stage, where Leticia stood in a very revealing cut-out dress. She started singing her signature song: "I want to dance with you, want to dance my cares away. I'll be so close to you, in your arms I'll always stay! Our 'earts will beat in tune . . ."

As she danced around the stage, kicking her feet up, her white skirt chasing her around the stage, Desmond leaned in closer. As he suspected before, she was certainly the most unusual individual he had ever met, but as her beautiful voice charmed him, he knew he was falling in love. Quentin noticed the love-struck expression on his face, he clapped Desmond on the shoulder and whispered, "You got it bad, huh?"

Desmond looked up at Quentin and a sheepish smile was his reply before turning back to the stage and his lovely Leticia.

After the show, the three spectators met Leticia backstage after she had time to change into a chiffon blouse, jeans, and short boots. She sat in front of her mirror, combing her long blond hair, as she heard praise from all three parties. "I never knew you could sing so well," Daphne said.

Leticia turned around to face her best friend, a huge smile on her face. "Well, thanks, luv!" she exclaimed.

Desmond glanced at Quentin and Daphne and asked Leticia, "Can I see you alone for a moment, Leticia?"

Leticia looked from the happy couple to her eager admirer and said, "Sure, luv." To Quentin and Daphne, she added, "You wouldn' mind, would you?"

Quentin shook his head as Daphne said, "No, of course not." Quentin smiled at Desmond as they left the room together.

Desmond walked over to her and held out his hands. Leticia grabbed them as he helped her stand. "Leticia, you sing like an angel," he smiled.

"Thank you," she said smilingly. Desmond leaned in to kiss her lips, but she turned away. As Desmond stood, hurt, Leticia smiled shakily and explained, "I've been kissed before, luv; save it, please." Desmond looked down at the ground and nodded, turning to leave the room. Leticia caught up with him and held him back. As Desmond stood dumbfounded, Leticia stood on tip-toe and kissed him.

After Quentin and Daphne left The Eagle, they went back to her place. Daphne unlocked her front door and they entered her house. "Home sweet home," she said brightly as she tossed her keys on the table.

Quentin took her hand and pulled her into the living room. "Come here, I want to talk to you," he said soothingly as he sat down on the couch.

She sat next to him and asked, "What is it?"

"Well," he said slowly, "I finally told Samantha."

Daphne gasped and threw her arms around him. "Oh, Quentin, that's wonderful!" Pulling away she asked, "Is she going to grant you a divorce?"

"Of course not," said a voice in the corner.

Daphne and Quentin wheeled around and saw Catherine scowling in the shadows. "Catherine!" Daphne exclaimed angrily. "What – _how_ did you get in here?"

"The front door," Catherine smirked, "You didn't answer her question, Quentin. Go on – crush her dreams."

"As a matter of fact," Quentin said, more to Catherine than to Daphne, "Samantha called her lawyer; we're getting a divorce."

"Hah," Catherine said skeptically. She sat next to Daphne and told her, "Daphne, don't you believe a word he's saying."

"I believe him, Catherine," Daphne said staunchly.

"Catherine, I would not lie to your sister," Quentin insisted, "I want to marry her."

"Marry?" Catherine said incredulously. "My sister is too young to marry."

"Catherine, I am twenty-three," Daphne said tersely, "I can do what I want, and I want to marry Quentin."

Catherine stood, a dangerous look in her eye. "Very well; marry him," she said, "You'll see what a marriage of lies feels like."

With that said, Catherine stormed out of Daphne's house, leaving her sister shaking her head in disbelief. "Don't listen to her Quentin," she implored, "She's just bitter and angry."

"I know," he said comfortingly, a wan smile on his face, "We'll just ignore her and focus on us. Deal?"

"Deal," Daphne smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six – Being One's Self

Daphne was on bar duty the next night, hoping that Quentin would possibly come and see her. She had worn her best sequined blouse, denim shorts, and oxford boots, and of course her hair was pulled back. An hour into her shift, she saw Quentin and Gerard coming towards the bar. She wondered if Gerard had told him about their chance meeting at the café, but she doubted it. Quentin smiled as he sat down on the barstool closer to her and said, "Hi, Daphne."

"Hello," she said, blushing.

"This is Gerard, my very best friend," he said, clapping Gerard on the shoulder.

His dark hazel eyes burned into Daphne's and said darkly, "We've already met."

Quentin raised his eyebrows. "Really?" he asked, surprised. Turning to Daphne, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think it was important," she lied. The truth was, she knew Quentin wouldn't believe her sense of danger when she was around him, and the first thing he would do is tell Gerard, and she didn't want Gerard to know how she felt.

"What do you want?" Daphne heard Quentin say.

"A beer," Gerard replied.

"Two beers," Quentin said smilingly at Daphne.

Daphne poured two beers out of the tap. "So what did you do today?" Daphne asked, handing the men their beers.

"Divorce proceedings, what else?" Quentin asked, a somber smile on his face.

"What happened?" Daphne said, leaning on the bar. There weren't many people at the bar, and all of them had their drinks, so she wasn't concerned about being negligent.

"Oh, Samantha got upset," Quentin sighed, "Every time the lawyers mentioned Tad, she would have another outburst. The judge finally said that if she spoke out again, he would rule in favor of me; she finally shut up."

"I see," Daphne said, her brown eyes full of concern.

Quentin grabbed Daphne's slender hand and held it near. "I don't care how much Samantha disrupts the court," Quentin said, kissing her hand, "I'll go through it all to be with you."

Daphne smiled as someone else sat at her bar. "Customer," she smiled as she went off to get his order.

Quentin turned to Gerard and said, "Well? You've met her. What do you think?"

"Very beautiful," he said, staring at his best friend's girlfriend.

Quentin nodded. "I can hardly bear to be separated from her," he said with a smirk.

"She looks so innocent," Gerard said, dropping his voice, "Surely you haven't slept with her."

Quentin raised an eyebrow. "Gerard, I know you're my best friend, but I don't discuss my personal life with anyone."

Gerard nodded. "I'm sorry, Quentin," he said, "I know I crossed the line; I shouldn't have asked."

"It's okay," Quentin said, smiling again, "No harm done."

Daphne returned, once again leaning on the bar. "Have I missed anything?" she asked smilingly.

"Nothing," Quentin replied, also smiling.

After her shift, Quentin took her home, where they promptly let their inhibitions go and made love, although not before checking to see if Catherine was in the house. As they lay in bed together, Daphne said, "I didn't tell you the truth before, Quentin," Daphne said hesitantly.

"About?" Quentin asked.

"The reason I didn't tell you about Gerard," she said, biting her lip, "He scares me."

"Hey," Quentin said, pulling her towards him, "He's okay. I've known him for years."

"But he seems so – dark," she said, looking into Quentin's blue, blue eyes.

"It's all a charade," Quentin said assuredly, "People know him as a mystic, and he is merely playing the part. You didn't believe it, did you?"

"He plays it so well," Daphne admitted.

"Don't be afraid of him," Quentin said, kissing Daphne's forehead, "He's harmless."

Daphne laughed. "Okay," she said, "I believe you."

"Good," Quentin smiled, "Glad to hear it."

The months passed, and the hearings were finally over: Quentin and Samantha were officially divorced, and Samantha got custody of Tad. Quentin knew that if she had not entered his affair with Daphne, she wouldn't have gained custody, but he also knew that she most certainly would; he told her anyway, because he was an honest man, and hated keeping secrets from his wife, even though he did not love her anymore.

The day that the verdict came down, Samantha walked along the docks. Even though she gained custody of her son, who meant more to her than anyone else in the world, she was still severely unhappy. With her marriage to Quentin, she had gained status and money; without him, all she had was his son, who reminded her of him every day. She sighed and sat on a barrel. She was alone and penniless, without even her reputation, which meant almost as much as Tad to her.

A man came walking down the docks and she decided to move on. The women who normally walked these docks were unrespectable women, and the last thing she needed was someone to mistake her for one of them. As she walked, the man caught up with her; he was Gerard Stiles, her ex-husband's best friends. "Gerard," she said stiffly as she walked faster.

He caught up with her once again and said, "Please, Samantha, let me at least offer you my congratulations."

Samantha laughed harshly. "Congratulations?" she asked skeptically. "What about condolences? Isn't Quentin Collins the greatest man on Earth? So honest, so noble, so respectable – how I hate him!"

"Samantha, Quentin did not know how to treat such an aristocratic and beautiful woman like you," Gerard said with his silver tongue, "I have long admired you from afar and seen how Quentin made a mockery of his own marriage. Please, Samantha, give me a chance to make you feel how you should feel for the rest of your life."

Samantha looked at him, but did not see love; no, she saw a way to get back at Quentin. "Yes," she replied. Gerard did not notice the mischievous look in her eyes. "Let's say tomorrow at eight."

"Tomorrow at eight it is," Gerard said, kissing her hand, "I will be waiting."

Quentin entered Rose Cottage to tell Desmond the good news, but when he got there, Desmond was holding his head in his hands, looking very depressed. Quentin sat next to him and said, "Hey, man, what's wrong?"

"Leticia left me," he said, hardly believing it.

"What?" Quentin exclaimed. "But you two were perfect together. Why?"

"Because she 'must move on, luv'," Desmond said, mocking Leticia's accent cruelly, "I had to turn the radio off a second ago. It was playing our song."

"What was your song?" Quentin asked, curious.

"_Opportunity_ by Elvis Costello," Desmond explained, his hurt more apparent than ever.

"You'll get through this," Quentin said comfortingly.

"She only used me for sex," Desmond said angrily.

Quentin creased his brow. "I can't imagine why Daphne would befriend someone like that," Quentin said.

"Well, maybe you should be careful of Daphne," Desmond sighed, "After all, she used me to get to you, didn't she?"

"Desmond, that's ridiculous," Quentin said sternly, "Daphne went out with you because she cared for you; just not enough to start a real relationship other than friendship."

"Yeah. Sure," Desmond said, starting to get angry with Quentin, "Why don't you just leave me alone?"

"Okay," Quentin said, hurt. He walked out the door, wondering if Desmond would ever be himself again after this.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven – Enter Quentin's Son

The door knocked; Daphne knew who it was. She smoothed out her silk-like dark brown hair and stood, regaining her balance on her super-high heels. She glanced at her dress in the mirror; nothing was showing, yet she felt incredibly sexy in leather. Carefully, she walked towards the door and swung it open, revealing a very well-dressed, now-available Quentin Collins on her front stoop. His mouth gaped as he stared at her. "Wow, my girlfriend looks hot in leather," he smirked, walking past the threshold. He extended a fistful of beautiful flowers and said, "For you, beautiful."

Daphne's heart melted as she took the flowers in her hands and drank them in. "Oh, Quentin, you're so sweet," she said, kissing Quentin on the cheek.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, "I guess I should bring flowers more often." Daphne clomped over to the kitchen and fished out a vase from her cluttered cupboard and immediately filled it with water. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"No," Daphne said, preoccupied with arranging her aromatic gift, "The movie doesn't start for a while." Daphne picked up the vase and moved it to the center of the dining room table. "What are we seeing?"

"Life as We Know It," Quentin replied comfortably from the couch.

Daphne creased her brow and stared at Quentin. "Really?" she asked incredulously.

"What?" Quentin asked innocently.

"It looked crappy to me – in fact, I know I said that last night when we saw the previews," Daphne explained.

"So?" Quentin said with a mischievous grin. Daphne smirked and walked clunkily over to Quentin, finally twirling around and sitting next to him. Quentin placed an arm around her, saying, "Do you mind if I take off my shoes?"

Daphne glanced over at Quentin's work boots and said, "Sure, why not?"

Quentin bent down and untied the boot laces and took off his shoes. Almost immediately, Daphne's nose wrinkled. "What'd you put in your shoes, rotten eggs?"

"I have sweaty feet," Quentin exclaimed embarrassedly.

"I have to go," Daphne said, springing up and sprinting to the bathroom.

Soon, she came back with a Febreze air can, spraying the air around her boyfriend with perfumed deodorant. "Oh, come on!" Quentin exclaimed indignantly. "It isn't that bad!"

"Oh, yes it is," Daphne protested, holding her nose as she sprayed the last of her powerful weapon.

"Are you sure you can live with this?" Quentin coughed.

"I use it all the time," Daphne said breezily, putting down her aerosol can.

"I mean the smell," Quentin clarified, "If we were married, could you live with my stinkfeet?"

Daphne looked at Quentin with a determined smirk as she quenched her qualms inside. No, she told herself, he did not just ask me to marry him; he just was poking fun at me. "I'm sure."

"Good," Quentin smirked, pulling her into his Febreze cloud and kissing her soft lips as the chemical smell entered their lungs.

The next morning, Daphne straightened her hair and dressed in a very straight-looking lace-fitted dress, and slipped on her leather boots. She took a deep breath and put as little make-up on as possible. It was very important that she looked as conservative and safe as possible, she told herself. She looked at the ad she cut out of the newspaper and smoothed it. It read:

**Single mother looking for tutor and companion to sixteen-year-old son. Phone number: 999-5939. Please call for appointment.**

Daphne had called, and was very nervous. Yes, she had a degree in education, but she had never had to use it before; however, she was also very determined to quit her job at the Blue Whale. Daphne had become very tired of the pick-up lines she heard time and time again; also, Desmond's glares across the room whenever he partook disturbed her greatly. No, she thought, the bar was not the place for her. Besides, her relationship with Quentin was now respectable; she needed a job to match.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she decided she was ready now, so she grabbed her striped bag and headed out the door.

She drove five miles to a modest townhouse. Daphne parallel parked and hesitantly got out of her car and walked up to a rather intimidating door. Taking a deep breath, she knocked, and a woman with flaming-red curls opened the door. The woman was plainly dressed in a tank top and miniskirt. Daphne noticed, though, that the tank top had a Mexican flair, and that she wore very prim and proper pumps. She also recognized the woman's face, but hoped that the woman didn't recognize her.

The woman, however, smiled politely at her and said, "You must be Miss Harridge. I am Ms. Collins. Please come in."

"Thank you," Daphne said, smiling slightly, as she crossed Samantha Collins' threshold. Looking around the living room, she added, "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you, I moved recently," Samantha said with a wan smile, "I'll introduce you to Tad now."

Samantha led Daphne down a tiny, narrow corridor to Tad's room. Samantha knocked on her son's door, and a sullen teenage voice said, "Yeah?"

"Honey, I have a Miss Harridge that wants to meet you," Samantha said sweetly, although Daphne noticed a tense edge to her voice.

After a moment, a slightly chubby brown-haired adolescent appeared before them. He crossed his arm, and stood staring at Daphne. "Is she going to be my tutor?"

Daphne tried not to be cross with the way her charge was belittling her. "Yes, darling," Samantha said, her fake cheeriness more apparent. "If you want her to," she hastily added.

Tad looked Daphne over and smirked. Daphne could see a sullen Quentin behind this troubled boy. "I guess."

"Good," Samantha said, smiling with relief. Tad immediately shut himself back in his room. Samantha turned to Daphne and said, "You're hired."

Outside the house, Quentin pulled up in his car and read the address in the newspaper that Daphne had circled. She can't be thinking of working here, Quentin thought, yet he plainly saw Daphne's car parked ahead of his. Swallowing his pride, Quentin marched up to the door and rapped. Almost immediately, the lady of the house appeared, and her cheerfulness turned into a scowl. "Do I have to put a restraining order on you, too?" Samantha said bitingly.

"I'm here for Daphne," Quentin said between clenched teeth.

Samantha's face went pale as she looked back at Daphne, who, upon hearing her name, came to the door. "What are you doing here, Quentin?" Daphne said, crestfallen. A whole afternoon wasted, she thought to herself. Samantha would never hire her now.

"Oh," Samantha said, a bitter expression on her face, "Is this the little tramp?"

"Take that back, Samantha," Quentin said threateningly, "Don't make me make you."

"It's okay, Quentin," Daphne said resignedly, turning to Samantha, "Ms. Collins, I'm sorry if you find yourself unable to hire me now; I completely understand."

Just then, Gerard came up the walk in his best suit. Seeing Quentin and Daphne there, the smile he had suddenly dissipated. Quentin turned around and saw him. Smirking, he said, "Gerard! What are you doing here?"

"I-." he began before Samantha interrupted.

"We've been seeing each other," Samantha said proudly.

"Since when?" Quentin asked.

"Since the divorce," Samantha replied.

"And you have the nerve to call Daphne a tramp," Quentin said seriously, his arms crossed, "C'mon, Daphne. I can't stand the stench here."

"Wait!" Samantha called out, her proud manner gone, "Miss Harridge, you're the only applicant that Tad has even remotely liked. Please, stay."

Daphne turned around, trying to deliberate this in her mind. Samantha now knew who she was, and Gerard gave her major creeps. However, Tad was a troubled boy that truly needed someone; who knew how long it would take before another suitable tutor was found? Besides he was Quentin's son . . . "Of course," Daphne assured her with a smile, while Quentin stood staring at her disbelievingly.


End file.
